


10,000 emerald pools

by kay_okay



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Beaches, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Kissing, M/M, Ocean, Smut, Summer, Tour, on tour, they're just. saps okay they love each other i can't help but write them this way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_okay/pseuds/kay_okay
Summary: “Want you,” he whispers, pressed secretive against Phil’s tongue. “Want you,want you.”Phil smiles into their kiss, tightens the grip of his thighs. “You have me.”





	10,000 emerald pools

**Author's Note:**

> title and lyrics included lifted from ["10,000 emerald pools" by BØRNS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4GrDOOIIbk). which sounds like it was basically written for this fic tbh so please give this song a listen if you haven't already, it's beautiful and poignant and gorgeous and other adjectives like that.
> 
> this is a work of fiction. this is a fictional story about fictional representations of real people. none of the events are true. no profit was made from this work. all mistakes left are my own.
> 
> thank you so much to cait [@commonemergency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commonemergency/) for not only looking this over for me but her constant support and cheerleading xoxo *dj horn*

_i'll dive in deeper, deeper for you_  
_down to the bottom, ten thousand emerald pools_  
_underwater, time is standing still_  
_you're the treasure, dive down deeper still_  
_all i need is you, you're all i need to breathe_  
_all i need is you_

 

There’s still a thread of excitement coursing through Dan’s body when he tries to get ready for bed, streaks of sparklers running through his veins leftover from the night’s fireworks in the sky. It’s late in St. Augustine, the crew they’d celebrated with long shuffled off to their hotel rooms, muttering good-byes pressed tiredly into cheek kisses before leaving Dan and Phil to their own room. 

Dan doubts they’ll ever be back here in the their joined future, so it’s that alcohol-and-adrenaline-fueled logic that makes him reach for Phil’s hand, cut off his path to the bed and start pulling him out the door.

“Let’s go to the beach.”

 

 

They don’t talk on the way there. Dan lets go of his hand before the elevator doors ping open in the lobby and they walk calmly out. They pass the concierge, a bored-looking teenage boy with spots covering his face and eyes trained down to an iPhone cradled in his hands. He pays them no attention as they trot by.

Dan feels the fireworks again, energy crackling like lightning under his skin, and he wants to run. When they clear the double doors to the hotel, the empty U-shaped valet driveway, the edge of the deserted walkway, Dan’s toes finally touch the concrete of an empty sidewalk adjacent to the shore. It’s the catalyst he needs.

He slips past the cone-shaped yellow light of a streetlamp. He lets his feet carry them in a beeline to the water’s edge, flying over cold sand and kicking it up against Phil’s shins. 

Dan looks to his right and Phil’s there, running parallel. He takes his hand again. 

 

 

The waves are loud and boisterous here against the shore, oddly calming in the way the rhythms ebb and flow and sea salt sprays in time with the light wind. Dan strips his jumper off, discarding the plain black tee underneath and leaning out of his sandals at the same time. Phil follows suit, no one out here on the dark, private beach to feel intimidated by. 

Dan’s eyes catch Phil’s. He looks ethereal in this moonlight, opalescent like the underside of a shell or morning sheen on a fresh blanket of snow. They move toward each other, as they always tend to do, but Dan drops his hands to the button fly on Phil’s shorts. 

“Let me,” he offers. 

Up close, Dan’s hands work slow. He hears Phil draw in a breath when Dan’s hands slide inside, fingers pressing against hip bones to hold the elastic of his pants, letting his shorts fall as he tugs them down. 

But Phil’s no pushover. He steps out of his shorts and leans in, frees the bow in Dan’s drawstring and pulls him closer forcibly by the waistband with a soft grunt. Dan gasps involuntarily and his eyes widen, arms wrapping around Phil’s shoulders for balance. 

His heart races. It's not from the running. 

 

 

Even in July, the Atlantic is chilly this far into the middle of the night. Phil makes little yelps every time another centimeter of his skin goes underwater, a swipe and a smack on Dan’s arm every time he fakes pushing Phil in further against his will. 

“Dan!” Phil cries again, laughing. “Stop!”

A wave comes in and crashes against their thighs, and goosebumps cascade across Dan’s skin. Phil’s got his back to him, so he lays his hands across the expanse, turns the charm on in his voice. 

“It's chilly out here.” He whinges a little, crowds in against bare skin under moonlight. 

“This was your idea, mate,” Phil counters. 

Another wave starts building pressure ahead of them, and Dan wraps an arm around Phil’s waist from behind. “Phil, this is gonna be a big one,” Dan warns. 

“Get off me then so I can move!”

Dan climbs up instead, hooks an arm around Phil’s shoulder and hops on his back. Phil cries out in surprise as the wave crashes and they tumble in one big heap, Phil making sure to spin on his heel and send Dan into the water first. 

Cold waves cascade over them, and even underwater, Phil’s hands find Dan’s. 

 

 

It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, it’s beyond anything they’ve ever done out in public like this. And even with no one around for miles, somewhere deep down inside Dan feels a tug at his gut. A need to break apart, or hide, or collapse the last bit of his body into the water, spill into the sea.

But Phil brings him back to earth, as he always does. His hands knead softly at the edges of Dan’s face, fingertips pressing against his ears as he kisses him, thumb drumming lightly at the cool ring of gold threaded through Dan’s right lobe. Phil combs through wet hair at the back of Dan’s neck, and Dan sighs into soft kisses that melt his fears and liquify his heart. It’s so slow that he aches, in the gentle, calculated way Phil touches him. 

They’re further in now, and Dan feels the waterline lap at his elbows, dipping long arms underwater to wind around Phil’s waist. When he crowds into him, draws their torsos together and purposefully rolls his hips, Phil gasps into their open mouths.

“Dan, _fuck._ ”

“Yeah, I’m trying,” Dan cheeks. He slides fingertips past a waistband and digs in, squeezes a handful of plush skin underwater. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“There’s… Too much ocean out here,” Phil follows dumbly, head tipping back as Dan’s mouth attaches to the taut skin across Phil’s collarbone, his brain empty of petty things like the English language and sentence structure. “Our room.”

Dan thinks he knows what Phil means, though. The shallow seawater helps with buoyancy, so Dan leans forward and tugs, pulls at Phil’s thighs until they wrap easily around his waist. Phil drapes his arms around Dan’s shoulders and holds on, arches his back when Dan’s lips find his again. 

He tastes like salt, like store-bought vanilla cupcakes from earlier, gummy candy and chewing gum and too many vodka-cranberries. The water keeps Phil afloat so Dan can support him with one arm, brings the other above the surface to grip at the back of Phil’s neck. He chases the taste. 

“Want you,” he whispers, pressed secretive against Phil’s tongue. “Want you, _want you._ ”

Phil smiles into their kiss, tightens the grip of his thighs. “You have me.”

 

 

In their room, Dan tries to find moonlight. There's a sliver seeping through a cracked curtain and spilling onto the bed, so he guides Phil into it. He peels off Phil’s damp clothes until he's back to nothing, pants drenched in saltwater tossed unceremoniously aside and Dan slipping into the space left between his thighs. Dan had already ditched his own pants, so Phil slides a pair of lithe hands up Dan’s back to push at his shirt. 

“Get this off, wanna see you,” Phil requests softly, smiling. Dan obliges, emerging from under cotton quickly to drop more kisses to Phil’s chest. His lips travel down, down towards Phil’s stomach and navel and cock leaning against his hip.

Dan feels like he’s been hard for hours with how bad he’s wanted this all night. There can be no pretense or stalling, so he makes himself comfortable in the space between Phil’s knees and winds an arm around one of Phil’s thighs. He licks the palm of his other hand, tongue taking long, wet passes as he looks up at Phil through his fingers.

He knows it’s enjoyable for Phil to watch him, he’s told Dan as much, but fuck if Dan doesn’t love seeing Phil like this, too -- spread out for him, waiting and wanting and everything pointed towards Dan and his every move. It’s enthralling and addicting, it’s enough for Dan to finish and not want to waste another second, finally wrapping his left hand around Phil’s cock and guiding the tip into his mouth.

Phil makes a throaty sound, a half-moan, half-gasp of surprise, and his hand immediately slides into Dan’s hair to grip at damp, saltwater-thick strands. He scratches soft skin behind Dan’s ear, cries out loud when Dan bobs up and down, feels his eyes roll back into his head when he closes them.

It’s humid in the room, windows thrown open to let in salty ocean air and the sound of waves crashing against beaten sand, and Phil already has a line of perspiration at his forehead. Dan watches a drop slide down into the hair at Phil’s temple, hollows out his throat and lets the soft head of Phil’s cock bump against the roof of his mouth. He moans and tugs a little at Dan’s curls.

“You’re beautiful like this.” Phil’s voice is quiet, pained with pent-up anticipation. Dan lifts his eyelashes, bobs a few more times before he lets Phil’s cock slowly out from between his lips.

“Only like this?” Dan jokes, “With your cock in my mouth?”

“All the time,” Phil laughs weakly, mind fuzzy and spent. He cards a hand through Dan’s hair. “Here. Like this. With me. And all the time.”

 

 

“I want you,” Phil begs when their rhythms falter, when there’s an itch that hasn’t yet been scratched, when they flip positions to try and find it. His request is hushed between their kissing mouths and sparring tongues, spread across Dan’s lap and driving his hips down, hands spread like searching across Dan’s chest. “Now.”

“You have me,” Dan echoes from earlier. Smiling, he runs palms against Phil’s thighs and squeezes. When he teasingly ghosts fingertips against Phil’s entrance, he takes a small victory in the way that Phil grunts, flutters his eyes a little and pushes back. 

But Phil regains his composure and reaches between them. His voice falls low, gravelly like sandpaper against wood. He circles delicate fingers in a loose fist around Dan’s cock and strokes. “All of you.”

 

 

There's a long time of prep, slow kissing and even slower, incremental hand movements. But then Phil backs off Dan’s fingers, leans down, and in one fluid motion licks up one side of Dan’s neglected cock and swallows down the other. 

“Phil, _Jesus Christ --_ ”

His hand flies up to Phil’s hair, freshly shorn on the sides but long enough on top to tug. Dan’s other hand grips the sheets, a sweaty handful of cotton the only thing keeping him grounded. 

“You ready?” Phil asks, sitting back up. He's single-minded now, Dan can see it in his eyes, pupils blown to black and focused, zeroed in on Dan like he's the only thing in the room. 

He's been ready for hours. He says so out loud and that's the clearance Phil needs to reach between them, line them up just right, use his leverage to let Dan slowly in. 

It's slow and perfect, the hot drag of Dan’s cock inside, surrounded by Phil in more ways than one, heart beating against his sternum and breath halted until he's all the way in. Phil lets out a gusty breath when he's finally seated, head tipped back and throat clenching, exposing the long, long, never ending line of his neck. Dan touches him everywhere, slides palms around his thighs and hips, around his soft stomach to grip at his sides, fingers between the lines of his ribs. 

“It's good?” Dan manages to get out, haltingly, dying to press up and fuck Phil into next week, needs to make sure he's okay because they don't do it like this often and sometimes it takes Phil a minute. 

Phil arches his back like a cat, C-shaped and beautiful, winds a hand around his cock and lifts up a little. “Better than good,” he sighs out, before he starts to move. 

 

 

They always say it. Sometimes it's a _fuck, i love you,_ at the end, pressed laughingly with exhaustion and gratitude against skin and mixed with sweat. Sometimes it's in the middle of everything, stilted like _i-fucking-love-you_ to their shared rhythm, hands clasped to keep each other grounded. 

But like the rest of this night, this one is honey-slow and pitched low, Phil pulling Dan’s shoulder to sit him up and winding his arms around Dan’s neck. He rolls his hips gently in Dan’s lap, makes a noise of approval when Dan slides his hands down Phil’s back to wrap around his thighs, helping with the movements. 

“I love you,” Phil presses against the side of Dan’s neck, not above a whisper and coupled with another grind of his hips. Phil kisses there softly, sucks a mouthful of skin into his mouth and bites down gently as he speeds up his rhythm. 

Suddenly it's too much at once, Dan cries out and grips with shaky fingers onto Phil's hip joints, helps bring him down, down, down again until he can't anymore, until he has to just hold him there in his lap and go silent. Dan’s hands slide everywhere, too much to touch and not enough time as he sees white hot behind his eyelids, comes hard with Phil’s name on his lips and Phil’s body wrapped around him, limb by limb. 

Dan chokes out a breath finally, a long, shuddery groan against Phil’s shoulder. Room spinning, he winds his arms around Phil’s waist and falls back flat, taking Phil with him to lay on his chest. Vaguely, somewhere far outside his mind, he feels Phil wrap a hand around himself and start to stroke, so he does his best to shake himself out of it and close his own palm around Phil’s working hand.

He’s not at 100% from this angle, but he tries to sit up a little, leans on his right elbow as his left strokes Phil off. He’s nearly there, Dan can tell, so when Phil braces himself on Dan’s chest and drops his head, Dan grips him by the hip and starts driving into him again. He loves it when Phil surrenders like this, lets himself fall apart, collapse into pieces before he’ll let Dan put him together again.

It’s the push Phil needs to get him over the edge, a handful of strokes later and he’s faltering, a cry getting caught in his throat when his orgasm hits. Dan presses his hips up a final time to meet him, slides his hands up to massage into undoubtedly sore shoulders, catches him when his elbows fail and he tumbles against Dan’s chest.

When Dan slides out it’s with a dissatisfied noise from Phil, and he gets a hand around him to press a warm palm against Phil’s entrance apologetically. It’s meant to be comforting but Phil leans back against his fingers with interest, and Dan chuckles.

“No way, Lester.”

“You can’t blame me for trying,” Phil mumbles drowsily into Dan’s chest.

Dan laughs again and wraps his arms around Phil’s neck, parting his thighs so Phil can slot his own between them. Phil makes quick work of getting further into Dan’s space, nudging his mouth against Dan’s in soft, searching kisses until he welcomes him in.

They’re both suckers for this, post-coital closeness and the feel of the other person surrounding them like a warm bath on a cold night. They don’t pretend anymore, not nearly ten years down the road, not when they’ve overcome so much to get themselves here to content and comfortable and safe.

Dan holds Phil’s face while he kisses him. Pulling away minutely, he speaks against Phil’s lips.

“By the way, I love you too. Sorry for the late response.”

Phil stares at him a second, up close and blurry and eyes sparkling emerald until his mouth breaks into a smile, a fluttery laugh that’s music to Dan’s ears. 

 

 

The next morning, they board the empty lift with their luggage and subconsciously crowd together against the back wall, shoulders touching. Dan’s tired, cranky he couldn't spend more time in bed this morning with quiet hands and a soft mouth re-learning the expanses of Phil’s body under pale, early sunlight. 

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirrored walls of the lift, a faded fuschia mark behind his ear and up against the hairline. It's small, barely noticeable if Dan didn't know it was there, or couldn't feel the small tug of soreness when he turns his head. Off-handedly, he presses two fingertips against it and winces. 

Behind closed doors, Phil leans in, crowds against Dan and lays a kiss against the mark. Hand around his hip, he kisses light to Dan’s neck, ear, cheek. It's an apology and an appreciation, a _thank you, i love you, i love you._

They're already broken apart when the doors open in the lobby, and Phil walks out, Dan still in his wake. Distracted, Dan stays behind in the lift staring after Phil’s back retreating.

When Phil notices he’s not next to him, Dan sees him turn around a few yards ahead, looking confused. 

“Dan!” Phil calls out. He puts his bag on his other shoulder and looks at him in concern. “You coming?”

Dan’s hit by something then, an odd feeling of familiarity and comfort, like he’s been here before and like he knows everything is okay. Something like nostalgia for a time that hasn’t happened yet. It crashes over him like a wave, like the ocean last night under the stars, and there’s a sudden need to look at Phil in this moment and memorize what he sees, what he feels.

So he snaps a mental photo, filing it away. The image of Phil ahead of him, waiting for him. And beyond that, their future.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kay_okays) and [tumblr](http://kay-okays.tumblr.com/tagged/*mine) xoxo


End file.
